


Green

by Xenay



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Chromesthesia, Gen, Oneshot, Synesthesia, sherlock has synesthesia, sounds as colors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenay/pseuds/Xenay
Summary: John frowned at him. “I’m sorry, ‘green’? Weren’t they mostly white?”“Not the shoes; the sound!” Sherlock snapped at him, glaring at the stupidity.“The sound? Sherlock, you’re not making any sense. Is this still the concussion?” John asked.Or the one where I attempt to write synesthesia. (I’m sorry, Sherlock)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	Green

“Faster John!” Sherlock yelled as they chased a suspect through an abandoned warehouse. The suspect was much faster, much to Sherlock’s dislike, and was a good distance in front of them, agile like a hare he races in zig zags around presumably empty containers. 

Sherlock tried to do the same, and only noticed the patch of a frozen puddle under his feet when world tilted to the side. His heart skips a beat when he realized that he was inevitably going to slam down. 

Too little time, he couldn’t figure out a plan on how to brace his falls, and he ends up hitting his head on the ground, hearing the screeching of the suspects shoes as he seemed to take an especially sharp turn.

Sherlock had his eyes closed in that very second, and saw the flash of a dark green dot in the black sea. 

“You alright?” John finally caught up to him, panting from the chase. 

Sherlock only huffed in annoyance at not having caught the suspect, and stares at the hole in the ceiling; it must have rained in and the water froze over night. 

John ended up testing him, and diagnosed Sherlock with a concussion. “You’re on bed rest.” He ordered, and Sherlock couldn’t even glare at him properly when John had to hold him steady from the dizziness of getting up on his feet.

* * *

Sherlock obviously refused to stay in his bedroom, and kept on working with his laptop until John confiscated it. 

Now he was laying with his eyes closed on the sofa. Not asleep but also not in his mind palace - he seems to have major trouble in getting in there and staying there for longer than two minutes, so he’s just resting his eyes. 

Sherlock almost jumped out of his skin when a voice suddenly came from right next to him. “Sherlock, I’d ap- shit sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Wait a minute. Why hadn’t he seen John’s deep-sea-blue splotch when he heard him talk? He looked at John confused. Then relaxed back on the sofa and closed his eyes. “Talk, again, please.”

John seemed puzzled. “What?”

“For longer, please. Just talk about.. anything. Doesn’t matter.” Sherlock commanded calmly.

John leaned back with a raised eyebrow. “O..kay? I was just telling you that I’d appreciate it if you at least stayed hydrated. It won’t help you recover if you don’t give your body what it needs to heal.”

John then got up and left before Sherlock could make him stay.

There was still nothing. He couldn’t see John’s presence. 

Sherlock then stayed still like a statue with his eyes shut, waiting, hoping that any noise would give him colors. 

Mrs Hudson’s big pink blotch didn’t appear either, when she came up the stairs with a tray that held his favorite biscuits; probably John trying to bribe him. 

He sighed and gave up on the experiment, it was giving him a headache. 

* * *

A few days later he tried again. This time with the big over-ear headphones and music. 

He had one song on repeat, and it took almost all of the four minutes song duration for even a hint of a color spot to appear.

“What are you doing?” John startled him once again. Sherlock had thought that John was at the surgery. What day was it?

“Sherlock? I asked you a quest-“ “SHUT UP!!!” Sherlock bellowed, making John quickly retreat. 

It took three more song repeats, but he finally got it. Even though he couldn’t tell what part of the music - violins, drums, voice, electric guitar - the white, purple, yellow and light green exactly were, at least there was color again. 

John watched as Sherlock’s skin was littered with goosebumps over and over again and a faint smile graced his features, wondering what in heavens name the detective was listening to. 

Then he thought better and decided that he didn’t want to know.

* * *

Back at the Yard, they were discussing how to proceed. 

“We know absolutely nothing about the suspect. He managed to evade all security cameras, so he knew exactly what he was doing.” Greg said.

Sherlock was sitting to the side, trying to look through his mind palace. A video (memory) appeared in his mind’s vision. Him falling, and that screeching-

He suddenly gasped, eyes snapping open.

All eyes are instantly on him. “You got anything?” Greg asked. 

“His shoes.” Sherlock replied, brain still catching up. 

“His shoes?” John repeats, puzzled. “What about them?”

Sherlock didn’t answer for a while, mentally looking for a moment where he had seen the shoes in full detail. 

“Size 8,5. Adidas. Green.” Sherlock muttered the deductions as he looked at the shoe from all angles. “Limited Edition.” 

John frowned at him. “I’m sorry, ‘green’? Weren’t they mostly white?” 

“Not the shoes; the sound!” Sherlock snapped at him, glaring at the stupidity. 

“The sound? Sherlock, you’re not making any sense. Is this still the concussion?” John asked. 

Sherlock jumped up from his chair with a roar of frustration and then walked over to Greg, typing ‘Adidas Limited Edition’ on his computer. “See if you can get a wide variety of limited editions. And make sure they’re size 8,5.” He then turned to leave the office.

“Sherlock! What does it matter what kind of shoes he has?!” John yelled after him, making him stop in the doorway.

Sherlock only turned his head over his shoulder to give John another glare as he explained. 

“Because if we know exactly which shoes he has, we can then check every website and shop to see who they sold that exact shoe to, and track down all of them. He is a male, so that narrows it down. Shame that he never said a word.” The last sentence was barely hear able from across the room, but John was more confused at what it meant than he thought he had misheard. 

Sherlock then took his leave, and by the time John had grabbed his coat to run after him, Sherlock was long gone without a trace.

* * *

Two days later they got called to the Yard again. They managed to get 38 different limited edition shoes in exactly the requested size. But nobody knew how that was helping, so they needed Sherlock back and hope that this was all for a purpose.

“Perfect. Now, we need a big empty hall with a tiled floor, and a person of similar height and weight...” 

Greg shook his head at Sherlock’s plan. “Tell me honestly what we are doing all this for, please?” 

“Stop wasting time.” Sherlock bit at him.

“Sherlock, I get that you’re pissed off at letting him escape, but can you please just humor us and explain what in gods name is going on in your head?” John asked, going between them. 

Sherlock sighed. “It was green.” He said simply, as though that explained everything.

“I already told you, the shoes were almost completely white. Just look at all of these, there is not a single green shoe!” John argued.

Sherlock facepalmed and let his hand slowly slide down as he tried not to get annoyed at having to explain it. He knew that the second he tells someone else, they think he’s insane. Well, more so than they already did. He was even told by his father that ‘the drugs must have burned holes into your brain’. 

He took a deep breath to prepare himself. Not looking at anybody, eyes fixed on the first pair of shoes, which he picks up the left shoe of, he starts talking. “I see colors when I hear sounds. The screeching of his shoes was a dark green. I need someone to replicate the scene as best as possible so that I can identify which shoes he owns.” He was fiddling nervously with the laces, waiting for the ridicule.

“You have synesthesia.” John declared in awe. 

Sherlock looked up in surprise. “Chromesthesia to be precise, but yes.” He placed the shoe back down next to the other.

“I’m sorry, what?” Greg asked. 

Sherlock felt like ripping his hair out. “I just explained it to you!” 

“Yeah, and I get that. I just.. I heard of it before but I thought they only see numbers in different colors.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Can we please proceed with the plan, then? Please?” He was so annoyed by now, he had no patience left.

  
  


* * *

They actually moved to the warehouse for maximum results.

It turned out that Anderson had the correct size, height and weight, and after almost ten minutes of persuasion, they got him to do it for them.

“And remember, you need to move very fast.” John helpfully reminded Anderson, who glared at him for making him exercise. 

“Now, absolutely No talking from ANY of you! I need to concentrate.” Sherlock snapped, already leaning back against one of the canisters with his eyes shut. 

It took a few tries for Anderson to get the correct speed down, but still Sherlock shook his head. “Orange.” He declared. “Next.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe the sound would be different if his shoes were more worn?” Greg asked him quietly. 

“Of course. But I saw them; the soles were barely used. Looked almost brand new. This will work, I promise.” Sherlock explains, still keeping his eyes closed.

Thankfully, Anderson didn’t have to go through all 38 pairs.

At pair number 21, Sherlock came to life and yelled “yes!” 

“Oh thank god.” Anderson said, sweat clinging to his forehead and hair, he leaned against the nearest container to catch his breath. 

“Perfect. Now comes the tedious part.” Sherlock said, the feeling of triumph only short-lived.

* * *

It took them 3 more days to track down every seller and buyer, but eventually they managed to find their suspect, compared the DNAs and finally, they got their murderer locked up.

“Soooo.. if sounds are colors, then that means every person has a color, right?” Greg asked a very smug looking Sherlock, and in barely a second, his face became black and annoyed.

“I know what you’re going to ask. Don’t bother.” Sherlock said and walked away. 

Greg didn’t let him go that easily, though. “I’m just curious about what that funny head of yours thinks what my color is.” 

“Not gonna tell you.” Sherlock kept walking and refused to look at him.

“Fine. What’s John, then?” The question makes Sherlock stop dead in his tracks.

“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?” 

“Curiosity, that’s all. I can’t imagine him to have any girly colors like pink or yellow or something. So?” 

Sherlock heaved a sigh. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

Sherlock hesitated a moment longer, glancing at John talking to Donovan in one of the cubicles. 

“Fine. You’re grey, John is a dark blue, Mrs Hudson is pink, Donovan is indigo and Anderson is red. Now leave me alone.” 

Sherlock left without another word. 

Greg is left to wonder if the red for Anderson is more the color of blood than red roses. He snorts at the thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Background story on this:
> 
> A really long time ago, I was asked to write a fic about Sherlock or John having synesthesia, and the other finding out. At first I thought it was ridiculous to write it when I didn’t have it. Then, months later, I discovered that I actually did have it, just never thought that it wasn’t normal to see colors when you listen to something with your eyes closed.
> 
> I was watching a TwoSet Violin video on YouTube where they got to play 7 different Stradivaris and then had to guess which one was being played. And I got all of them right because I saw different colors from the different pitches (I guess?) and just how they all sounded slightly different from another.
> 
> So then I thought and thought on how to go about it in a fic. And this is the result.
> 
> I hope my attempt is at least slightly satisfying.


End file.
